


Voodoo Doll

by Regret Me (MythicObsessions)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Dark fic, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Song fic, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5853139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicObsessions/pseuds/Regret%20Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The van was always either too hot or too cold. At the moment, it was freezing. Patrick’s fingers felt fat and too big for his hands as he flexed them into a fist in an endless loop of “ow ow ow” and numbness.<br/>Patrick’s thoughts whirled, his belly nervous and sickly, as he sat there, pushed into his door since Pete was spread out across the rest of the seat.<br/>He pressed his cheek to the breath fogged glass, let the ice burn sink into his skin and he wasn’t going to cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voodoo Doll

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so, so sorry. I can't even say it enough. I'm so sorry.  
> The song is Voodoo by Ghost Town.  
> I suggest listening it. It's good.  
> And I feel kind of shitty for this.
> 
> Request here:  
> https://ask.fm/Not_All_Broken

“Calm down.” Patrick sighed. “It’s okay. He hasn’t hurt me. I love him, mom. It’s okay.”

Patricia didn’t look convinced but didn’t say anything.  
Pete stayed silent behind Patrick.  
  
“I hope you know what you’re getting into, Patrick, baby.” Patricia ran her hands through Patrick’s hair. “I hope you know.”  
“I know.” Patrick sighed. “He’s okay. I’m okay. We’ll be fine.”  
“He’s not okay.” Patricia countered. “He’s not, stop saying that. Nothing about this is okay!”  
  


**I hate the way you're making me act around your friends,** **  
** **And the way you keep saying you won't let me in.**

 

2003

Patrick curled around his guitar, trying to hide from so many eyes falling on him. He felt sick, probably green in the face, as he played out the first few chords of the song. He let out a breath of relief when he heard Pete’s artfully shitty bass playing come in, and the eyes stopped focusing on him so much.

The session was fun, after Patrick got over the whole shock of “crowds” and “people expecting things from me.”  
But Patrick still felt like he could crawl out of his skin when the band left the stage. He sank down in front of Pete when his guitar was taken away, he settled his head against the bump of Pete’s hip bones and he sobbed out a breath when he felt Pete’s hand on his head, comforting and warm.

“You're okay.” Pete soothed, other hand joining the first, and then Patrick shifted until he could pull himself up.  
“I’m okay.” Patrick repeated, wiping at his face, a little embarrassed when his hand came away wet.

Pete nodded, leaned in and kissed Patrick’s nose once.  
“Fucking rockstar.” He said and then he was gone.

 

The van was always either too hot or too cold. At the moment, it was freezing. Patrick’s fingers felt fat and too big for his hands as he flexed them into a fist in an endless loop of “ow ow ow” and numbness.  
Patrick’s thoughts whirled, his belly nervous and sickly, as he sat there, pushed into his door since Pete was spread out across the rest of the seat.  
He pressed his cheek to the breath fogged glass, let the ice burn sink into his skin and he wasn’t going to cry.

He was too old to cry.  
Pete’s hand wrapped around his thigh.  
“You okay?” Pete whispered into Patrick’s leg where he was using Patrick as a pillow.

Patrick nodded, swallowed.

“I’m okay.”  
“Okay.” Pete yawned.  
But Patrick didn’t think he believed him.

 

 **Now I'm starving for your attention.** **  
** **While you're begging for my affection.**

2004

“Pete.” Patrick whined, reaching for Pete’s shirt hem. “Pete, _please._ ”

Pete glared at Patrick, waved him off. “Fuck off.”  
Patrick breathed out, stumbled back and hit the hall wall as he watched Pete slip out of the house.  
He sank down, sobbing until his mother came in and found him there, eased him into his bed and asked what was wrong.  
“Nothing.” Patrick lied, pressed his face into his favorite pillow.  
He didn’t mean it.

He never meant it.

“Fucking quit acting like you’re the only one that exists!” Patrick screamed, his hat slipping down to cover his eyes too much. “You’re not! You’re not the only one that hurts!”  
Pete looked shocked to hear it but it dissolved into anger.  
“Fuck you.” Pete hissed, slapping Patrick across the face.

Patrick gasped, faltering and dropping down again. Always on his knees for Pete. Just the way he liked him.

And Pete was down with him, kissing him like he regretting everything, his hand smoothing over the red mark on Patrick’s burning cheek.

“‘s sorry.” Pete sobbed out, kissing Patrick again. “Didn’t mean to.”  
Patrick just cried with him, kissed him and pretended it was okay.  
It was okay.

 

 **And my habit of crawling in your bed at night,** ****  
**Is leading you to thinking that this is for life.** ****  


2005

Patrick lifted his sheets up as he saw Pete crawl into his window, loud in the silence of his room.

“Don’t worry.” Pete mumbled as he stripped off his shirt and his jeans. “I’m okay.”  
Patrick smiled faintly. It never was okay.

Pete sunk into the bed beside Patrick, moved until he could hover over Patrick in the darkness.  
Patrick whined happily when Pete started mouthing at his neck, brushing a hand down his side, under his shirt.  
“Yeah, okay.” Patrick moaned, letting Pete pull off his clothes.

“Okay.” Pete repeated, his fingers cold against Patrick’s thighs. “Okay.”  


Patrick was used to waking up with Pete in his bed.  
“Hi.” He mumbled, moving to nuzzle into Pete’s chest. He was actually a little cold, bare when he was used to sleeping dressed.  
“Hi…” Pete said back, much more awake then Patrick. “I love you.”  
“Love you too.”

 

**But I'm starving for your attention.**

**While you're begging for my affection.**

 

2007

“Just-” Patrick stopped, smacked at Pete’s hand. “Just hold still, Jesus.”

Pete nodded, but still squirmed when Patrick settled the alcohol soaked cotton ball against the cut.  
“Okay.” Patrick huffed, leaned back, tossed the ball away, and ran his fingers up from the base of Pete’s neck and into his hairline. “Seriously.”  
“Seriously?” Pete looked like he was going to laugh, mouth pressed tightly, and his eyes shining with tears and happiness.  
“Seriously.” Patrick affirmed. “If you do not keep still, I’ll tie you the fuck down.”  
Pete didn’t stop himself from laughing that time.  
“Why’d you even punch the asshole?” Patrick whined, patting at Pete’s head. “It’s not like he mattered.”  
“He called you a slut!” Pete said, obviously not believing Patrick wasn’t mad about this.  
“I kind of am, Pete.” Patrick sighed, grabbing back the ball and rubbing it against the cut on Pete’s cheek before Pete could flinch away.  
“No, you’re not, Patrick.” Pete whined. “You’re not.”  
Patrick shrugged, stuck a bandaid over the cut.

He didn’t believe Pete. He was a slut. A fucking disgusting human.

 

Pete leaned forward to kiss him, across the tiny bed. He pulled Patrick forward until Patrick had to crawl up onto the bed, hands and knees.  
“You’re so good.” Pete purred, rubbing a hand over Patrick’s forehead. “So good for me.”  
Patrick nodded absently, silently wishing that Pete just fuck him already.

Pete curled his hand around Patrick’s neck and kissed his cheek, his jaw bone, his neck, with each kiss pulling him closer until Patrick’s face was right in front of Pete’s zipper, Pete rubbing absently over his strawberry blond hair.  
Patrick blinked up at Pete, not speaking but definitely asking.  
Pete nodded. “Yeah, baby, do it.”  
Patrick reached for Pete’s zipper and, well, he did it.

 

**Now you're contemplating leaving but you can't escape the thoughts of what they told you would happen in the end.**

 

2008

Patrick cried. He cried a lot. More than he had when he was thirteen and bullied for his glasses and hair color.

More now, when Pete stopped calling. Stopped existing for weeks.

His bed smelled a little since Patrick hadn’t bothered cleaning it since Pete disappeared.  
He only did when he got the call from him  
“I’m sorry.” Were the words Pete choice. “I’m sorry. You’re allowed to be mad.”  
“I fucking-”  
“It’s okay.”  Pete cut him off. “It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.”  
“No we’re fucking not!” Patrick shouted, hung up and whispered. “It’s not okay.”

 

He sat there, on his bed, crying.

Why’d I do this? He thought, I should have listened.

 

Pete came in at some point, curled up around Patrick and kissed him until he stopped crying.  
“Where’d you go?” Patrick asked in a hoarse whisper.  
“I just-” Pete stopped. “I needed space okay?”  
“It’s not…” Patrick choked out. “It’s not okay. You could have said something!”  
And then he cried again, wanting, praying this never happened. He’d wake up and it’d be okay.

It’d be okay. ****  


**Now I bet you're really wishing that we had never met.** ****  


2010

“It’s over.” Patrick hissed. “I’m out.”

Andy sighed loudly, Joe cursed.  
Pete just glared like he wanted to kill someone.  
“You can’t do this to us.” Pete growled, his hand hot on Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick huffed, shook off the hand.  
“I can.”  
“You-”  
“Shut the fuck up.” Patrick yelled, pushing Pete away. “Why did you even fucking bother with me?! I wasn’t the fucking rockstar type, Pete. I’m not the fucking type!”

 

**I'm thinking back to when we met in that ghost town,**

**And how it felt to be held and never let down.**

2011

Patrick touched his arm, his chest, stomach. His fingers danced across his hips, eyes glued to the mirror and his naked, hollow looking skin. It looked so wrong.  Felt so good to touch but not good to see.  
The marks over his waist, at where his pants hem would have been. The ugly stretch marks.  
Patrick still felt disgusting. Even when he was so skinny, healthy.

He remembered hands, tight on his waist. A mouth on his neck.

Words in the dark.

_You’re beautiful_

He didn’t feel beautiful. Not when Pete wasn’t there to see him.

  
He did, though, sing better than he ever had. Bouncing around the stage even when his stomach churned and threatened to spill out of his rapidly moving mouth.  
Pete had called called Patrick golden when Patrick sang and wrote for Fall Out Boy. He didn’t feel golden anymore. 

 

**My lifeless touch was just the touch that you were waiting for.**

2012

“I’m sorry.” Pete sighed, breath full of static and white noise over the phone. “I’m sorry I acted out like that.”  
Patrick stared forward, blank face and no emotion, as he made eye contact with himself in the mirror across the room.  
“I’m sorry.” Pete repeated into his ear. “I really, really am.”  
“Patrick sighed. “I know.”  
“Come back to me?” Pete asked. “Please, I miss you.”  
Patrick nodded even though Pete couldn’t see, said: “Yeah okay.”

 

Patrick missed the way Pete touched him.  
He panted, wriggling on the dark sheeted bed as Pete breathed into his neck.  
“I missed you.” Pete hissed, his hips rutting forward against Patrick’s stomach. “Missed you so much.”  
Patrick moaned, rolled up against him.

“Let me-” Pete breathed in roughly. “Let me fuck you.”  
Patrick nodded, tugged up Pete’s shirt. “Yes.”  


**My evil ways were always there,** **  
** **Just couldn't see before.**

2013

Pete’s grip was strong on his arm, pushing him into the room with a vengeance.  
“What the fuck.” Pete growled, throwing Patrick against a dressing. “What the fuck was that!”  
Patrick whined, his back aching from the pressure of the wood behind him.

Patrick hadn’t actually done anything. Not that he had realized. Maybe flirted, smiled at the girls who basically were drooling for him. Patrick couldn’t believe that, either.  
“What?” Patrick breathed. “What was what?”  
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Pete laughed bitterly. “You fucking slut.”  
  
Patrick looked in the mirror again that night, the bruises over his waist and hips. His fingers touched them and he flinched.  
God, why’d he come back?  
“‘s sorry.” Pete said from the bathroom door. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”  
“It’s okay.” Patrick muttered but it wasn’t okay. And Pete, he wasn’t sorry.

 

**Tear me limb from limb.**

2013

Patrick tugged against the cuffs again, cringed and bit back a sob when they dug in digger, cutting a deep groove into his wrists.  
He choked on his saliva as Pete pushed into his mouth again, and Patrick was tempted to bite but he knew Pete would probably hurt him twice as bad.  
“You’re so good.” Pete groaned.

 

**I'm just a voodoo doll.**

 

Patrick’s wrists ached, burned, the blood dry over his arms and his hands but still breathed in and out against the wood of the table, hands bloodied and pressed against the top of it as Pete breathed down his neck and thrust, and pressed and it was too much. Too rough.  
Patrick couldn’t complain.

 

 **Stick a needle in my eye,** ****  
**So I can finally cry.** **  
** **So I can finally cry.**

 

Tears hot and sticky on his face as he kissed Pete. He wanted to stop the steady flow of them from his eyes but he couldn’t manage it.  
“I’m so sorry.” Patrick sobbed, his mouth rubbing against Pete’s cheek as he spoke. “I’m so sorry.”  
He kept saying it

“It’s okay.” Pete soothed, his hand rubbing circles on Patrick’s back.  
And Patrick’s wrists still ached.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay.” Pete said again, and again. “It’s okay.”  
  
It’s okay.

 

 **Now I feel the pain of your lighter's flame burning at my feet.**  
2014

Patrick huffed, hands crossed behind his head at the point where his straight scars should out the most.  
Scars from too rough, too hard. He loved them.  
“No, but seriously, what if?” Pete insisted as Andy and Joe just laughed more and more.  
“What if I, what, married you?” Patrick giggled, pulled the sleeves of his long shirt a bit lower.  
“Yeah!” Pete laughed. “I mean, we’re already there.”

“Are you?” Andy said, looking at Pete with wide wondering eyes. “What about the hiatus? Thought you were done for good.”  
“Never.” Patrick breathed, rolling his eyes. “Never done for good. Just for long bursts of time.”  
“So?” Pete butted in. “Will you?”  
“I-”  
He didn’t finish, instead laughed into Pete’s mouth as he kissed him.

 

“You’ll do it right?” Pete asked again once they got home. “Marry me?”  
“I guess.” Patrick shrugged, pervious emotions gone from his face. “If you want me to.”  
“I do.”  
“Then so do I.”

 

 **You make it hard to sleep.** ****  
**Got another plan, gonna make me suffer 'til I lose my mind.**  


2015

Patrick rolled over onto his back as Pete marched kisses up his side.  
“Why’re you awake?” Patrick whined. “It’s-” He looked over at the alarm. “Late.”  
“It is late.” Pete purred, but didn’t stop his assault, licking at Patrick’s throat. “But do you care?”  
“Not really.” Patrick sighed, “It’s okay.”  
“Good boy.” Pete purred, wrapped a hand around Patrick’s bare dick and stroked and it was like a switch.  
Patrick was tired but then he was hard.

 

Patrick poked at the circles under his eyes. God, three nights in a row without sleep. It was starting to show.  
Patrick sighed, smudged makeup over them until they weren’t visible anymore. He was getting good at that, he realized, looking at the clock. Only two minutes it had taken him.  
He smiled at his reflexion, but the smile faded too soon.

 

**Gonna make me feel it till you take my life.**

 

2015

Patrick moaned.  
“Fuck. So good, Patrick.” Pete mumbled into his skin, his fingers shifting inside of Patrick. “Wanna come for me?”

Patrick moaned again, arched up and did just that.

Coming white and hot over his chest and stomach.  
Pete ran a finger through the liquid, frowning at the skin under it as he wiped it away.  
“You’re gaining weight.” Pete said, narrowing his eyes and pushing his fingers hard against Patrick’s prostate.  
Patrick cried out, too sensitive.

“Won’t-” Patrick panted. “Won’t eat tomorrow.”  
“Not good enough.” Pete shook his head. “Three days.”  
Patrick gasped and nodded. “Okay. Okay. Three days.”  
Pete pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his dick, fucking Patrick too hard and Patrick was too sensitive.

Patrick cried. Tears hot and making his cheek stick against Pete’s as he moved, mouthing at Patrick’s jaw.  
Patrick screamed when Pete thrust too hard, too fast. It was too dry.  
“Shh.” Pete soothed, not stopping his movements. “Shh, it’s okay.”  
It’s okay.

  


**You got an evil mind.**

 

“Pete-” Patrick whined as Pete pulled out, felt new tears on his cheeks.  
“So good.” Pete said, his favorite sentence yet. “You’re so good.”  
Patrick nodded.

 

In the shower, the water was tinted pink but Patrick didn’t think anything of it, just washed off the stench of sex.  
  


**I taught you just in time.** ****  
  
New Years(2016)

Patrick tugged on his tie, sighed loudly in the empty room.  
Pete stood behind him.  
“Are you ready?” Pete asked, tugging at his own suit’s sleeves, fixing his shirt’s collar.  
Patrick nodded, spared a glance at the mirror. He didn’t like his hair all styled up like that, he mused.  
Pete looked good though.  


Patrick followed him down the stairs, into the car. He kept tugging on his tie, marveling the feel of it cutting off his air.  


The bridge was kind of funny.  The water under it wasn’t. It looked like lead in the darkness, only lit up with the stars and the lights from the houses around.  
Most of the houses lights were out, dimming the night for the fireworks.  
Patrick sat on the rail, his tie between his index and forefinger to stop it from shifting on his chest. Pete was leaning on Patrick’s side.  
“It’s pretty.” Pete said, swallowing down another pill. “Just like you.”  
Patrick snorted. “Hardly.”  
“You’re right.” Pete said, another pill on his tongue. “You’re prettier.”  
Patrick laughed then, sudden and loud in the stillness.

“Disagreeable.” He giggled, looking down at his hand, the tie between his fingers, the ring around the fourth digit.  
“I love you.” Pete said, leaned over and kissed Patrick softly, and Patrick could taste the chemicals on his tongue.  
“Love you too.” Patrick mumbled, shifting forward on the rail.

“Glad you’re here.” Pete sighed contentedly, and swallowed another pill down dry.  
“Glad to be here.”

Pete nodded.  
“You made it easier, you know.” Pete said, softly, looking down at the water so far below. “You made life so much easier.”  
Patrick smiled, blushed.

“Thank you for being here.”  
Patrick nodded, smiled at Pete as Pete removed the ring he had on the same finger as Patrick’s.  
Pete handed it to Patrick and Patrick took it gently from his hand, took off his own and tossed them both into the waters belong.  
He listened, thinking he might be able to hear the splash. He couldn’t. It was too far.  
At that moment, light burst up in the sky after a wheezing squeal, Patrick watched the fireworks explode and giggled.  
He listened as another went off and that time, he heard the splash. Patrick looked to his side and smiled at where Pete had been.  
  
Patrick walked back to the car alone.  
Fell asleep in Pete and his bed alone.  
And didn’t cry when the call came telling him Pete was gone. He had already known. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so horrible....  
> Comment and you know, trash me.
> 
>  
> 
> Also if you want to give opinions and help out when I'm writing you can kik me at @MythicAngels or just comment and ask for a way to communicate.  
> Sometimes I just need tiny pieces of information is all and opinions while I'm writing.  
> Three fourths of everything I write never gets on this site because of that whole opinion thing <3
> 
> PS: I have a prompt/inspiration blog on tumblr  
> http://whennothingmeanssomething.tumblr.com/


End file.
